


the chicago case

by bluebeholder



Series: the accidental epic [8]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: It's the job of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to deal with threats to the Statute of Secrecy in America. This means that Percival Graves has to deal with the situation in Chicago, where unscrupulous wizards are violating the Statute by assisting gangsters in their attempts to violate No-Maj Prohibition. It should have been easy. But one particularly infamous crime lord takes violent exception to this intervention...





	the chicago case

**Author's Note:**

> From Chapter 14 of _a better mirror_ : "Graves had gone back in ’25 to establish the station, and he’d run afoul of one particular boss, a new man in the city, one Al Capone. The man was cunning and in possession of items to temporarily ward off Obliviation, and had actually directly challenged Graves in a warehouse in South Chicago. That had been a chaotic fight—they hadn’t yet worked out magic to properly block a Tommy Gun, but most of the No-Majs involved had no defense against magic—and in the end they’d called a truce. Al Capone was allowed to run his empire, on the condition that the wizards on his payroll personally see to the Obliviation of No-Majs who witnessed magical events."
> 
> Well, we all want to hear what _really_ happened, don’t we…? :)

Graves dives behind a stack of crates, hitting the ground hard and immediately rolling up to his knees, ignoring the searing pain where a stray bullet grazed his cheek. He turns to look at the other Aurors, who have also taken cover, trying to ascertain how much damage they’ve taken. It looks like Lucas is bleeding severely, but Rabi is already there, patching him up. Gladwyn and Aveskamp are returning fire directly—good—and Winfrith is enchanting lengths of chain to rush out like snakes to attack the gangsters. 

“Where the hell are our reinforcements?” Daniel asks, hurtling around the side of the crates to crouch next to Graves.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Graves mutters. He risks a glance over the pile of crates, toward the warehouse door, and then drops flat as a spray of bullets smashes into the nearest crate. This, this is why they have Rappaport’s Law and the International Statute of Secrecy. Because _magic doesn’t do well blocking bullets._

This was supposed to be a simple operation. A quick in-and-out, apprehend a few wizard rumrunners who’d thrown in with the Chicago Outfit, Obliviate the No-Maj gangsters, and done. But no: the No-Majs had enchanted items to temporarily ward off Obliviation and someone had laid a damn _ambush_ for them, and now they’re pinned down in a hail of Tommy gun fire. They can’t just Apparate away; they came here to do a job, and that’s what they’ll do. 

Still, he’d like not to get his Aurors killed. “Daniel, if he’ll leave, get Lucas out of here,” Graves says. Out of all the Aurors here, Daniel’s the youngest, and this situation is dangerous enough that he won’t risk the kid. “And find out where everyone else is.”

“Yes, sir!” Daniel says. He’s inexperienced enough that he still uses ‘sir’ instead of just calling Graves by his last name or referring to him as ‘that son of a bitch’, like Winfrith does when she thinks he’s not listening. Daniel pauses and cocks his head. “…what are you going to do?”

“Something stupid,” Graves says, already calculating the distance from here to the No-Maj gangsters. He shoves Daniel’s shoulder. “Get a move on!”

Daniel steels himself, then bolts across the gap between their hiding spot and where Lucas and Rabi are hiding. Bullets hammer into the ground at his heels, but he takes cover just in time. Good: he’ll be fine. And everyone else can handle themselves. 

“Winfrith!” he shouts, not taking the time for an Amplifying Charm. She whips around to face him, immediately ready for action. Graves jerks his head in the direction of the gangsters and he sees her eyes widen. She swears at him, but he’s already in motion, Apparating right into the middle of the men.

There are perhaps twenty of them, and they were _not_ prepared for the appearance of Percival Graves right in their midst. He calculated the jump well, if he says so himself, but he doesn’t waste time on self-congratulatory thoughts. He’s already snapping out Body-Bind Charms at everyone in reach. He drops a Jelly-Fingers Jinx on one No-Maj who tries to shoot him before he can pull the trigger.

This is risky, because he’s only one man with no good way to block their guns and they’re already turning on him, but the distraction was just that. Behind him, he hears Winfrith, Gladwyn, and Aveskamp, breaking out of cover while the No-Majs are distracted by Graves. Aveskamp is leading with his favorite spell, one that makes the victim vomit slugs, while Gladwyn is laying about indiscriminately with her best Blasting Curse, knocking men over by tearing up the floor at their feet. Winfrith’s enchanted chains rip Tommy guns out of gangsters’ hands, and for half a second Graves thinks this might be over at last. 

But then one of the gangsters, perhaps with a little more sense than the rest, turns and bolts thirty feet to the door, narrowly dodging a Stunning Spell Graves hurls at him. He shoves the rolling door open, yelling for reinforcements. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. 

“Fall back!” Graves shouts over his shoulder. They’ve put perhaps fifteen of the No-Maj gangsters out of commission, but if more arrive—

There’s a rattle of gunfire and Aveskamp lets out a howl of pain. Gladwyn is shouting at Graves, but he does _not_ have time to worry about that. There are men coming in the door, a few more No-Majs with guns and some who are definitely wizards, wands at the ready, and in the lead someone whose face Graves vaguely recognizes from wanted posters hung in the No-Maj police stations. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything, to try to diffuse the situation, because the lead man immediately raises his gun and opens fire. Graves’ first reaction is to cast a Shield Charm, which is effective for about half a second. By then he’s already moving, and because he is not a wise man he’s not running away, he’s running right toward the thick of the fray. 

“ _Damn it, Graves_!” Winfrith yells from behind him. There’s a crack of Apparition and she appears beside him, already in motion, flinging up her own Shield Charm. 

The No-Majs didn’t seem to expect this, because the gangsters are caught off-guard when Graves and Winfrith take the offensive. Graves gets one of the gunmen in the chest with a Stunning Spell and Winfrith hits another one with a Jelly-Legs Jinx that does no real damage but leaves him in enough of a panic that he won’t be fighting any time soon. 

But these men are cool under fire. The other No-Maj gunmen get out of the way, and the three wizards step in. 

“Take the one on the right!” Graves orders, focusing on the other two. Winfrith is good, but he won’t make her fight two at once. And, good Auror that she is, she does what she’s told and charges into single combat. The other two wizards are more than happy to oblige and fight Graves, already hurling curses of their own. It’s a fight that Graves is more than prepared for. This is what he does, not blocking bullets. He blocks one curse with a Shield Charm and sidesteps the other, returning fire as he goes. “ _Confringo_!” 

One of the wizards gets up a Flame-Freezing Charm, but Graves has already thrown a Disarming Charm that knocks the other’s wand out of his hand. The wizard moves to chase it, but with his free hand Graves casts a wandless, wordless Hurling Jinx and sends the man flying. There’s still sounds of fighting behind him and a quick glance shows that Daniel, the young idiot, came back in to keep fighting. Winfrith is still engaged with the wizard, the No-Maj gunmen are blasting away at Daniel, Gladwyn, and the injured Aveskamp, he has no idea where Daniel and Rabi took Lucas, and this is going downhill faster than Graves can throw the brakes. 

He looks up to see the remaining wizard, who by the look on his face knows exactly who he’s confronting, attempt some curse that’s nothing but a blast of white light. Graves throws a countercharm and then Stupefies the wizard. They don’t have time to play. There’s the gang leader, fedora on, raising his gun and aiming right for Winfrith and Graves doesn’t hesitate. He Apparates, already raising his wand, and lands directly in front of the gang leader.

They’re of a height, and for a moment they’re just staring into each other’s eyes, breathing hard and ready to fight. Graves has the barrel of a Tommy gun pressed against his sternum. The gang leader has a wand right between his eyes. It’s a complete stalemate.

“Stand your men down,” Graves says through his teeth.

The gang leader doesn’t move an inch. “I’ve got a bullet with your name on it.”

“I’m authorized to use the Killing Curse,” Graves says, taking a chance that the man won’t shoot the second the words leave his lips. “And I _will_ , if you don’t order your men to stand down.”

There’s another airless moment when Graves thinks that this might actually be the moment he dies. He’s not thrilled, but hopefully it gives his Aurors a chance to get the hell out of here. The dead silence in the rest of the warehouse says that everyone else is watching this fight. Hopefully, his Aurors are smart enough to know that if Graves goes down they should just run.

But then the gang leader shakes his head in what might be admiration. “You might just be the most hard-boiled man I’ve ever seen,” he says. “What say we call this one a truce?”

Graves, decently sure he’s about to get shot, lowers his wand and takes a step back. To his mild surprise, the gang leader lowers his gun as well. And then he offers his hand. Adrenaline still thrumming in his veins, Graves shakes. “Truce,” he says. 

“You’ve got a pretty keen crew, Mr. Graves,” the gang leader says. 

“They’re the best of the best,” Graves says, wary. “And I don’t think I know your name.”

The man doffs his hat. “Capone,” he says. “Al Capone.”

“I wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but you shot two of my men,” Graves says. He touches his cheek, where blood is still sluggishly dripping from the bullet’s graze. “And me.”

Capone takes a long look around the warehouse. Out of all Capone’s men, who would have been almost thirty strong, only ten or so are left standing. The rest, victims of Body-Binds or Stunning Spells or, in one case, Winfrith’s Jelly-Legs Jinx, are fully out of commission. “Seems to me that I’ve come out the worse in this one,” Capone says. “You wizards really got some nerve.”

Now is not the time to mention that another five or six men, or a few more wizards, would have taken the Aurors down. It really, really isn’t. “We do,” Graves says. “Mr. Capone, it’s in your best interest to allow us to take your wizards into custody and Obliviate you and your men. We won’t touch your other…business, because MACUSA couldn’t give less of a damn about Prohibition if it tried. But what you’re doing with magic is illegal under our laws.”

“If I don’t care about my own government’s laws,” Capone drawls, “what makes you think I care at all about _yours_?”

Graves sighs. He wishes this were above his pay grade, but unfortunately, aside from President Picquery herself, he’s the single most qualified person in all of MACUSA to deal with this. “I don’t think you care at all,” he says. “Which is why we’ve established a permanent branch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in this city. I am leaving after this, but there will be Aurors in the city from now on, authorized to do whatever they have to in order to prevent your flouting the Statute of Secrecy.”

Capone is silent for a moment. “I don’t want nothing to do with you, and you don’t want nothing to do with me, Mr. Graves,” he says at last. “So let me offer you a deal. I’m no sap. You want to keep your magic a secret. Well, that’s fine. I want to keep my business on the down-low too. I think we can help each other. So what do you say that you and I make a…gentleman’s agreement?”

“Get to the point.”

“I’ll spell it out. You leave your Aurors in the city. Keep ’em here to make sure I’m on the straight and narrow. Protect your secrecy with other outfits like mine, take them out, arrest their wizards. But you leave me alone. I’ve got plenty of wizards working for me, and I think we can keep our magic all hushed up just fine on our own. We let the cat out of the bag, well, you come back and put it back in for us.” Capone pauses, studying Graves, taking his measure. “Copacetic?”

Graves thinks on it for a moment, mind racing. It won’t be a popular decision, and if President Picquery doesn’t agree, he’ll have to come back and finish this. If he _does_ have to come back, though, he’ll be much better prepared. He’s going to put the Research Division on the job of developing better spells to protect against guns, and there will be a much stronger force at his back. But for now, just to get out of this damn warehouse—

“You’ve got a deal,” he says. 

The Aurors clear out quick after that. It turns out that Daniel and Rabi had only Apparated right outside the building, because it wasn’t safe to move Lucas very far. Graves helps Aveskamp, who’s woozy and dazed from blood loss, half carrying the man, while Rabi and Daniel manage the delirious Lucas. Gladwyn and Winfrith, largely untouched, watch their backs. 

They get back to Tribune Tower in a slightly bedraggled fashion. The Aurors that Graves didn’t bring along are horrified. Mediwizards haul Aveskamp and Lucas straight off to the infirmary. Graves waves off medical attention in favor of dressing down the Aurors who were supposed to be reinforcements if the initial team didn’t return on time. And then he goes off to contact President Picquery and inform her of what just happened. 

Graves starts to get a headache as he heads for the office. It seems like such an ailment is built into the very bricks of this city. He’s glad he’ll never be coming back to Chicago.


End file.
